A Fool Can Have His Charms
by Savva
Summary: Bad boys and why we love them so. AU. EWE. Post-Hogwarts. This is a companion piece to my "Reclining Nude" Dramione. Revised and a bit revamped.


_I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thanks to you my beta - Lima Bean._

**A Fool Can Have His Charms.**

_He's a fool and don't I know it_

_But a fool can have his charms__*****_

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. He sat at his desk, making a point of not noticing her while reading his book. She knew that he was still angry with her after their morning rant. She let out a loud sigh and noticed with satisfaction a slight movement of his long, blond lashes. _Oh, what an arrogant, infuriating, self-centred and egoistical fool he is, but... a bloody charming one. Damn his blond locks, his stormy grey eyes and, especially, damn his firm buttocks along with those black trousers that cling to them so,_ she thought.

Watching him pouting, Hermione suddenly remembered very clearly how this wild, turbulent and entirely unexpected relationship with Draco Malfoy had started for her.

_**Flashback – About Twelve Months Ago**_

It was a Winter Party at the Ministry. Hermione sat at the bar in her skimpy black dress with an outrageously deep back décolleté when she heard a familiar voice with a customary drawl behind her.

"Wow, bloody shit, Granger, you have a body! Oh, that's just stellar! Who would've thought? We all are well aware that you have a hell lot of hair, of course. Some could say you have a brain, but a body with curves, this is a total surprise."

She turned on her bar stool and glanced at arrogantly smiling Draco.

"Well, Malfoy, unfortunately, I cannot share your sentiment. Sadly, I don't see any surprises here. You were an arse, still an arse and probably will be an arse for the rest of your life."

At that, Draco's smile became even wider and brighter than it was before. He came closer to Hermione and softly whispered in her ear, "Yup, an arse it is then, but a damn hot one at that, I'll say."

_O, what a peacock_, thought Hermione. He, however, was right. He did look delicious in his white batiste shirt and black cashmere trousers. Both garments shamelessly did nothing to conceal his tall, muscular body. And those three undone buttons on the top of his shirt were offering more than a glimpse of his pale, well-defined chest.

Hermione wasn't involved with anyone at the moment. The last romance left her with a bitter aftertaste of unfulfilled expectations, and thus, she didn't look for anything of this sort. To her chagrin, Draco noticed the lack of beau by her side and with an irrepressible persistence bothered her with his attention for the rest of the evening.

After the party, Hermione was destined to find out firsthand just how persistent, cunning and manipulative a Slytherin could be. Especially if the said Slytherin really wanted something. Draco tamed her slowly and carefully, coaxing her with his constant presence. A cup of morning coffee, chocolate or pastries after lunch with short notes from him waited for Hermione on her desk almost every day.

At first, she'd just make the coffee and sweets disappear with one annoyed wave of her wand. Draco's notes, on the other hand, were giving her trouble. The blasted things flew around her, buzzing and flashing messages like, "_What is it darling, a bad hair day again?_" in her face. Those pesky little parchment communications forced Hermione to go absolutely berserk. She fought vigorously against them for months, even though coffee smelled delicious, and chocolate looked incredibly inviting and tasty. Eventually, after a while, she decided that there is nothing wrong with a good cup of coffee in the morning and, maybe, a chocolate after lunch.

To Hermione's credit, we need to note, that she did put up quite a fight at the beginning. She did her best in ignoring Draco's blond locks and his broad shoulders that were scarcely concealed under his white shirt. Although, it was all for nought because once spring had come, his rolled up sleeves and loosened tie nearly did her in. His well-calculated casual look was so freaking compelling.

Unmistakably sensing the weakening of her resolve, Draco reinforced his efforts. He appeared on her office's threshold every evening, relentlessly asking her out for a drink or dinner. Taking Hermione's usual rebukes with a smirk and an arched eyebrow, he disappeared with a soft drawl, "Alright, next time perhaps. Good night, Granger."

The fruits of Draco's labour finally ripened, and, by the end of spring, Hermione found herself absurdly oversexed. On one particularly hot and stuffy evening, when Hermione was gathering her things from the desk, she heard someone enter her office. A moment later, she felt Draco's hot breath on her neck. Her body reacted immediately and quite strongly to his prominent proximity. She shivered inwardly and waited for his next move, not inclined to show her body's actual state and ignoring hot waves, which her traitorous body had produced.

At that precise moment, as if on cue, Draco leaned to her ear and murmured, "It is time to give up, Granger. We don't want a spontaneous combustion here, do we?"

And so, she did.

When, after a few months of dating, Draco suggested that she should move to his flat and give up hers, Hermione ridiculed him with, "Well, that's the silliest thing I ever heard from you. I won't, ever." After a while though, she noticed that her cat was extremely unhappy with her constant absence. So, she took the pet with her to Malfoy's along with some clothes and toiletries. At that, Draco just arched his eyebrow and didn't say anything.

The next phase was a highly predictable one. Once Hermione realized that she appeared at home just to water her plants and take a fresh set of clothes, and that she hadn't spend a night there for quite some time, she made the rational move into Draco's flat.

In the course of the next few months, Hermione learned that Draco was actually a decent companion. He was intelligent, had a wicked sense of humour and possessed exceptional taste. Moreover, he was a brilliant dancer and by far the best lover she ever had had. And Hermione did have plenty of lovers to compare him to! He still behaved like an arrogant aristocratic arse at times, and his ego needed regular trimming down to a normal size. Of course, they were fighting occasionally, because only he could infuriate her to the point of boiling with just one insolent smirk.

However, Hermione knew that nobody could be truly perfect. And by judging how her body sang every time he touched her, and how her heart skipped beats every time he whispered some nonsense in her ear, Draco Malfoy came close enough to perfection for her.

_**Present**_

They had been living together for three months. They had even attended the Ministry's Winter Party as a couple, and, of course, caused quite a stir there.

However, lately, Hermione had noticed disturbing changes in Draco's behaviour. He had been either thoughtful or overly possessive. More than once, she had heard him mutter '_mine_' during their late night encounters.

Draco's latest strike of possessiveness had brought them to this morning fight. It was stupid, really. Hermione had planned for weeks the outing with her friends. Considering their extremely busy schedules, it had not been easy to find a date. Understandably, she had been truly looking forward to it. Draco, on the other hand, didn't want her to go and had been unusually forthright trying to convince her to stay with him.

For Hermione, to cancel and to stay home was absolutely out of the questions. It was a principle matter, after all. So, without much ado, Hermione had made it clear that she would go whether he agreed or not. Draco hadn't reacted in anyway, and so she had left.

Later, when she sat with her friends and listened with half an ear to their news, her own thoughts circled around Draco and their relationship. Unexpectedly, she felt lonely without him, even with her friends' companionship.

Now, Hermione was back at their flat. She looked at him thoughtfully, trying to choose between two options – either hex Draco's sulking arse into oblivion or, snog the hell out of him. Choosing the latter, Hermione closed the distance between them, boldly planted herself on his lap, and, completely ignoring his "Hey, what the–", kissed him. He answered her call with vigour, and his lips dominated her instantly.

"You are a fool, Draco," she said when they parted for a breath. "You mustn't ever force me to choose between you and my friends again. It's just not fair. I don't have problems with Blaise or Theo."

Draco sighed and muttered a resigned "I know." Then, giving Hermione a somewhat peculiar look, he fished something out of his pocket. He took her hand in his, turned it the palm up and placed a little black box on it.

"Granger, I want you to become a Malfoy. Will you?"

Hermione, still sitting on his lap, froze. When she at last gathered her wits, she opened the box and was momentarily blinded by intense sparkle of diamonds. The ring was beautiful, extravagantly beautiful.

She looked at Draco and said. "Draco, you do realize that I will still have my friends."

"Yes, but you will be a Malfoy."

"And you do realize that I will never be your little house-witch."

"Yes, but you will be a Malfoy."

"And that I'm still going to pursue my career."

"Yes, but you will be a Malfoy."

"Draco, I don't understand."

"Oh, for Merlin sake, Hermione, I love you, damn it! I want you to become a Malfoy, my wife. To be mine. What is there so bloody difficult to understand? You know, for the brightest witch of the century, you're quite thick sometimes. Say _"Yes"_ already, and close your mouth. It's very unladylike to sit with your mouth open."

"I will."

"What?"

"I said, I will, Malfoy. And please, do close your mouth because it's very ungentlemanlike to sit with your mouth open. Or so I was told."

"You will?"

"Yes."

"Say it again."

"Yes."

"Again."

"Yes, yes, yes."

Draco launched on her lips with renewed vigour, and she readily answered him in kind.

Later, when they lost themselves in each other, racing to the completion, there, at the highest point, Draco rasped. "Mine?"

He locked his grey eyes on her brown ones, and a second later, he heard her breathy reply.

"Yours."

*****_Ella Fitzgerald/Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered_


End file.
